Bambi eBook

“You seem to be unaware, my dear Jarvis, that
in offering a rude rebuff to Mr. Strong you offended
me, since he is my good friend and came to see you
at my request. I think you made as poor an impression
on him as he did upon you, at the time of your meeting,
and it was as a politeness to me that he came to look
you up. I think an apology to both of us is rather
necessary.”

A week elapsed, with no reply. Then came a characteristic
answer:

“DEAR BAMBI: Please find enclosed copy
of apology sent Strong to-day. I don’t
like him, but I have apologized. I also apologize
to you. Please don’t omit letters any more.
They mean a great deal these days.”

She pondered this for some time. That Jarvis
was going through new and trying experiences she realized.
But this human appeal for her letters was so unlike
the old Jarvis that she had to read it many times to
believe it was actually there.

She wrote him at once, accepting his apology gracefully.

“Can’t you come out for a few days’
rest here, and go back in time to hear Frohman’s
verdict? We’d love to have you, especially
the Professor and Ardelia.”

He answered that it was impossible to get away now.
Later, possibly, he might come. He was grateful
for the invitation. He never mentioned how he
lived, and she did not ask him. The Professor’s
check he returned, with a note of thanks, saying he
did not need it. The summer went by and fall
came to town. Still there was no word of his return.

“My, this is a fat letter from Jarvis!
Frohman must have accepted the play!” exclaimed
Bambi one morning in September. She opened out
the thick, folded paper.

“It’s poetry,” she added. “‘Songs
of the Street,’ If he’s gone back to poetry,
I’m afraid he’s lost.”

She began to glance through them.

“My dear, I’ve asked you for coffee twice.”

“These are powerful and ugly. Think of
Jarvis seeing these things.”

“Coffee,” reiterated the Professor.

“Yes, yes. You must read these. They’re
upsetting. I wonder what is happening to Jarvis.”

“Is he in trouble?”

“No, he doesn’t say so. But there’s
a new note in these.”

“Coffee,” repeated the Professor, patiently.

“For goodness’ sake, father, stop shouting
coffee. You are the epitome of the irritating
this morning.”

“I always am until I have my coffee.”

All day long Bambi thought about Jarvis’s “Street
Songs.” It was not the things themselves.
They were crude enough, in spots, but it was the new
sense in Jarvis that made him see and understand human
suffering. She felt an irresistible impulse to
take the next train and go to him. Would he be
glad to see her? For the first time she wanted
him, eagerly. But the impulse passed, and weeks
stretched into months. She worked steadily at
the book, which grew apace. She loved every word
of it. Sometimes she wondered what would become
of her without that work, during this waiting time,
while Jarvis was making his career. For, in her
mind, she always thought of herself and her writing
as a side issue of no moment. Jarvis’s
work was the big, important thing in her life.